


Full of Storm

by sarkany



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Magic, Gen, No actual HP characters, Present Tense, also maybe some past tense, idk tense is not my friend, why ON EARTH IS IT PRESENT TENSE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-29
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-05-17 02:16:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5850037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarkany/pseuds/sarkany
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man smiles at them faintly, but Ed catches the rapid flicker of his eyes as they stumble over the gleaming metal arm and leg. </p><p>“Mr. Elric, I presume?” he finally says.</p><p>“Ed,” Ed replies.</p><p>Mustang takes this in stride, “Ed. I am Professor Mustang from Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "</p><p>***<br/>Ed goes to Hogwarts. This was generally regarded as a mistake.</p><p>An incomplete and poorly plotted examination of Ed as a wizard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full of Storm

Ed is startled when the letter comes. He and Al have been self-educated for so long that school has never occurred to them. The script is beautifully calligraphied on what feels to be real sheepskin parchment. 

_Dear Mr. Elric,  
We are pleased in inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find a list of all –_

Something explodes in the kitchen, flames flickering through the open door, and Ed has much more important things to worry about for the next half hour—namely, how to not get bawled out by Granny when she finds her kitchen a mess of scorched tile and burnt (exploded) potatoes.

The letter gets buried and promptly forgotten under five textbooks, a sock, and half an automail blueprint until someone knocks on the door almost a month later.

Granny Pinako opens the door and something in her face changes when she sees the tall man with dark hair and darker eyes on the doorstep.

“I’m Professor Roy Mustang, pleasure to make your acquaintance” the man says and extends his hand. Granny allows the stillness to linger before taking the proffered hand and shaking perfunctorily.  
“Pinako,” she says shortly, “and I cannot say the same Mr. Mustang.” Nonetheless, she steps aside so he can enter. 

The man visibly startles at the mess immediately inside. Ed grins a bit from his position behind the staircase banister. There are piles of scrap metal, buckets of screws and tools, and even larger stacks of books on medicine, engineering, quantum physics, French. It looks like the workhouse of a mad scientist (or three), and not at all like a house for three children—well, not unless they’re three genius children, one of whom builds cars for fun. 

Granny shoves a Winry’s latest project off the couch with an ear-shattering screech. At Mustang’s flinch and sudden step backwards, Ed catches the edge of a grin on Granny’s mouth (which makes dealing with Winry’s inevitable bitching about the dents in the armor worth it).

“Sit down,” she says, gesturing at the tattered paisley sofa littered with scorch marks and grease stains. To his credit, Mustang doesn’t hesitate as he perches on the mess, even if his trousers look bespoke and very expensive. “Tea?” she asks, but ignores Mustang’s response as she bustles back into the kitchen.

Once they’re both comfortably situated with tea—or when Granny has stirred three precise spoonfuls of sugar into her tea. Mustang is gripping his teacup and staring slightly wild-eyed at the fireplace mantel. He must’ve spotted the mason jars of preserved organs then—Granny shouts, “Ed! Al!” Mustang flinches again and quite impressively doesn’t spill tea all over his expensive pants.

Al immediately pops out from behind the den door, where he has been obviously eavesdropping. Not that Ed is one to judge. They both gape a bit at the stranger. Up close, he looks younger, early twenties at most, despite being a professor. However, he’s well-dressed enough that Ed hopes the oil stains seep into his clothing permanently. 

The man smiles at them faintly, but Ed catches the rapid flicker of his eyes as they stumble over the gleaming metal arm and leg. 

“Mr. Elric, I presume?” he finally says.

“Ed,” Ed replies.

Mustang takes this in stride, “Ed. I am Professor Mustang from Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We would like to offer you a place there. Your father was a great wizard.” He produces a faintly wrinkled letter from the depths of his trouser pocket.

Ed blinks at him, then swivels his head to see Al beaming with wide-eyed excitement.

When Ed makes no move to take the letter, Mustang seems to wilt just the slightest bit. “You, ah, are aware that you’re a wizard right?”

Ed stares incredulously at him. What pea-brained professor was he? The second stack of books next to the radiator were clearly all transfiguration texts!

Taking his silence as a negative, Mustang continued, “We assumed you didn’t get the initial letter, so I was here to follow up. I apologize for presuming. Magic is real. I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’m willing to demonstrate if you…” He trails off at the amusement emanating from Granny.

“The boys have been tutored since they were very young, Mr. Mustang. I highly doubt that the curriculum at Hogwarts could sufficiently challenge Ed. Or his brother.”

“I think brother should go,” Al pipes up, the traitor. “Teacher was great, but Hogwarts has libraries and specialized teachers.”

Ed frowns and pokes his brother with a metal finger, “What about you?”

Al shrugs, “I think it’s a great opportunity. I’ll be fine. Besides, I can go next year.” 

“We could admit him a year early,” Mustang interjects.

Al grins, grey eyes excited even when he studiously avoided Ed’s gaze. Ed sighs through his nose, “Fine,” he snaps, “I’ll go to your stupid school.”

***

They receive their identical book lists a week later, and Ed stares at his unblinkingly for ten minutes straight.

“Al,” he finally chokes out, “Why in Merlin’s name would we need to read Switch’s _Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration_? It’s not even accurate! His theory of general animation doesn’t even take into accou-”

Al tugs the paper out of his grasp and responds much too calmly, “I’m sure it won’t hurt to go over the basics again.”

“But-“ Ed splutters, “we already know how to transfigure all five elements. And they only have one book! For the entire year! What do we do for the rest of the year?”

Al doesn’t respond, but spends the rest of the day sneaking glances at Ed’s arm and leg when he thinks Ed isn’t looking. He doesn’t say that the only reason to go to Hogwarts is to access the library and some of the most brilliant magical researchers of the century.

Both of them could pass their NEWTs; if it weren’t for the heavy weight of his prosthetics and Al’s pendant (and the whole issue of unregistered magic being illegal), Ed doubts that either love or money could induce either of them to suffer through 7 years of mediocre and redundant schooling.

The next day, he makes Al a cup of his favorite chrysanthemum tea with the foul, vile liquid called milk and leaves it outside their shared room before fleeing. At dinner, Al smiles his special I-have-the-best-big-brother smile that only comes out when Ed has done something particularly awesome. Ed smiles back with his sorry-you-were-right smile. 

They're going to Hogwarts.

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to start posting and cleaning up my writing folder because if I don't screw up my courage and post, that entire folder is never going to see the light of day. Also exams.
> 
> Please feel free to critique, review, share squeeing, offer first born children etc.
> 
> Also, the rating will probably go up! This is still in the nebulous phase where I can't see what Ed is going to be doing past first year beyond vague hand-wavy generalities.


End file.
